


we have met before and we will meet again

by Tobi_Black



Series: If at first you don't succeed, try again [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Echoes of a Past Life reasserting themselves, Gen, Ichigo is NOT a normal Plus soul, Ichigo's Sealed Zanpaku-tou, Kurosaki Ichigo is Shiba Kaien, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, Quincy!Ichigo, Quincy!Yuzu, Reiatsu-Sensory and the Assorted Problems Associated, Reincarnation, Rukia realizes this, Shiba Clan Values, Shinigami Society, Shinigami/Zanpakutou Bond, Soul Memories, Unspecified Specifics of the Transmigration of Souls, Urahara's Moral System is Skewed, Urahara's weird status with Soul Society, as explained by Rukia and her terrible drawing skills, the basics of Soul Society and shinigami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-20 15:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobi_Black/pseuds/Tobi_Black
Summary: Ichigo couldn't have claimed to have lived a normal life by any means even before Rukia had crashed into his life, but after. There was very much a Before Rukia and After Rukia.Only, it didn't quite feel like this was their first meeting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Didn't Expect To See You Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/734469) by [cywscross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross). 



_2:23 A.M. Friday_

Ichigo’s sleep was restless.

His sleep had always been plagued with half-formed pictures of people and places that he’d never seen, with monsters not dissimilar to the one that had killed his mother.

Most of the time though, it felt like another world. One filled with tall skyscrapers that seemed to go on endlessly, even if the world was titled to lay on its side.

Sometimes, he could catch distant glimpses of someone his size whiter than bone and a tall man with a ragged full body cloak far out in the distance, calling things he couldn’t hear.

Sometimes, he could approach the base of one skyscraper and the place it would meet ground would ripple like water, distorting everything on that side. It would fog and mist like a mirror, settling itself on an almost exact replica of what was behind him except reversed.

Sometimes, in that watery mirror, he would catch a glimpse of a sometimes-woman sometimes-sea serpent in the distance screaming, pleading, the words indistinct.

Most of the time, these images would fade out of his head without a second thought once he was awake.

Sometimes, they would linger.

Sometimes, he wanted to forget so his chest didn’t feel so tight with emotion at the slightest reminder.

But that wasn’t him, so he remembered. A part of him was _desperate_ to remember these things.

It was that same part of him that wanted to remember so bad that caused him to jolt awake in the middle of the night, something on the tip of his tongue and something _important_ registering at the edges of his senses.

He shot up, rolling over and off the bed, landing in a crouch, hand at his waist where something should have been but _wasn’t_ , before conscious thought.

He blinked fully awake as he stood in his window frame, half outside it, a cool breeze snapping across his face and making him remember _himself_.

Even as a part of him _yearned_ to go forth and find what he thought he’d found, he closed the window and went back to bed.

Sure it was all just a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

_7:48 P.M._

Something had been tugging at his attention all day.

He couldn’t name it, but there was something that demanded his attention with its mere presence.

Not that he knew what that thing was.

But all day, he’d wanted to turn on his heel and go find something – someone?

It was driving Ichigo up a wall, the what and why on the tip of his tongue, because he _knew_ , he knew both, but for the life of him, they escaped him.

It’d left him a bit distracted during the day, and it felt like he’d attracted a ridiculous amount of the dead to him because of it.

Normally, he got a tag-along once a week, and he knew where all the spirits in his neighborhood were and would often take the time to circle around to visit their little memorials when they were children. Today though, he’d left the house, dealt with one spirit, found another waiting outside the school for him, had a meeting with the little girl hit by a car as he’d avenged her spilt vase.

It might have made him a tad bit less aware than he usually was – and he had fallen prey to his father’s enthusiastic greeting where normally, he’d block or dodge.

He’d squabbled with Goat-Face, even as he’d smiled at Yuzu and ruffled Karin’s hair as he’d passed them on his way upstairs, feeling drawn to go _up_.

He went upstairs instead of denying the urge because dealing with Goat-Face was tiring, and the man had a child’s energy levels.

Slamming his door behind him, he dropped his bag on the ground and stretched out his back, “Geez, why is my family so weird?”

He blinked when there was a faint flutter by his ear, only to see a butterfly in his room, “A black swallowtail butterfly? Where’d it come from?”

He didn’t really understand why, but the butterfly looked familiar with its sunlight-colored markings – and he _knew_ what they were called: _Soul Guides_.

Between one blink and the next though, a woman stepped through his wall and into his room in the wake of the butterfly – and he forgot that he hadn’t always known what the butterflies were, “What the . . ?”

He looked for a second between the wall and the woman in a shihakushō, trying to determine _how in the nine hells she’d gotten in_ , before turning his attention on the woman who hadn’t even glanced at him, “It’s close . .”

His eye twitched at the blatant disregard, and he stalked in her wake to kick her in the back, “How’s that for close, jerk-off?!” Particularly as she seemed to either have no awareness to his presence, or was just that confident to think he wouldn’t do anything about someone who casually broke in. “Psh!! Pretty cocky for a burglar, aren’t you?! What’s close?! The safe? Is that burglar-speak or something?!”

A vein throbbed at his temple as she stayed sprawled on the ground, just staring at him, “You . . you can _see_ me?!! And . . you _kicked_ me!”

Ichigo was seriously wondering if he hadn’t caused some brain damage at her sheer arrogance, because _of course_ he could see her, and _why wouldn’t he_ kick her ass for breaking in.

“Stop yammering! Hell yeah I can see you, why the hell wouldn’t I be able to?”

He was side-stepping before he could think about it as his father flew forward, knees pointed to where his back had been, “Quiet, boy! Stop jumping around up here!!”

Isshin flew right past his son, who twisted and kicked him in the jaw, “How can I be quiet when I’m subduing intruders?!”

Ichigo gestured wildly over to the woman who was looking back and forth between him and his father, a small frown on her face, “Look at this! Where’s our home security!?”

He eyed her for a second, wandering what about them made her have a look like that, but his father’s response distracted him from that, “Huh? Look at who?”

The twitch was back at that response, not putting it past his father to do something like that to get the jump on him to check his reflexes while distracted.

The woman stepped forward, “Normal people cannot see me. I’m a shinigami.”


	3. Rukia

Rukia didn’t take her eyes of the older man the entire time he was in the room, not even for a second as Ichigo bodily kicked him out of the room.

Like the orange-haired teen she was standing next to, he had a face that was familiar.

The man looked so much like the missing Shiba-taichou, that it was uncanny. She’d never really known him well, but he’d been family of Shiba-fukutaichou, so she’d known him in passing as more than just a captain of a different squad. He’d abruptly disappeared, and the 12th had reported the disappearance of his reiatsu, so the operating assumption had been that he’d died here in Karakura Town, and seeing this man, who was his spitting image, she wondered.

Either he’d died and his soul had transmigrated right away to a newborn, and here stood a man just old enough for that to be possible – or something else had happened.

She’d had the brief though that the _something else_ was that Shiba-taichou still lived and had deserted Soul Society, and either had lost all of his reiatsu and was effectively human – which made a desertion involuntary and she didn’t count it as such – or was pretending to be human, but he’d been a _Shiba_. Rukia couldn’t think of a Shiba who didn’t take their duty protecting Soul Society as anything other than extremely seriously, even if they didn’t join the Gotei 13.

It was still incredibly eerie to be looking at what for all accounts was his reincarnated soul.

It was worse looking at the man’s son.

The man looked the spitting image of Shiba-taichou if aged slightly in the way only the living were, but the teen could have been the double of Shiba-fukutaichou with orange hair, and a different shape to his eyes – and this could be _nothing else but_ his reincarnated soul.

Briefly, she wondered if this was common – the presence of one soul drew in the souls of its family if in the cycle – or if was just a freak accident that Shiba-fukutaichou had managed to pull together his soul after body possession by a hollow just in time for a young human Shiba-taichou to have a child.

As such, the moment the man was gone, her whole attention was on the teen, and she didn’t think about rules or regulations as she explained what she was and why she was here, feeling compelled to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isshin was a captain, and even if Rukia appears to have a bit of face-blindness, she i/should/ have recognized him. Particularly because he was a i/Shiba/.


	4. Chapter 4

A part of Ichigo didn’t doubt for a _second_ what this woman was saying, _knowing_ it to be true, “That’s your story? You’re a shinigami, and you came all the way from this Soul Society thing to vanquish an evil spirit.” –  but another part of himself couldn’t quite _believe_ – “That makes _no_ sense – _Are you out of your freaking mind?!_ ”

The woman seemed shocked at his reaction, like _she_ couldn’t believe he doubted her words, “What!?”

She glowered for a second, “You insolent-!” – before she breathed deep as she appeared to search for patience – “You can see ghosts, yet you do not believe in shinigami?!”

Ichigo didn’t think she found much patience.

He was inclined to think she was a short-tempered midget, that in a past life, had been a boss in the yakuza with her attitude.

He returned her half-glower with one of his own, “Of course not! I’ve never seen a shinigami before – and I should have seen a _lot_ of them by now considering how many ghosts are in this town. I won’t believe _anything_ until I see it with my own peepers.” – and began to push her toward the window, not exactly eager to repeat a previous experience of having a yakuza follow him around and nag at him before he snapped and beat some sense into the idiot, only to be called Big Brother and followed around _more_ by them for it – “Since Dad couldn’t see you, you’re probably not living, but go play “shinigami” somewhere else! Got that, you little snot?”

A vein popped on her face, “You dare speak that way to _me_?”

Ichigo gave her a flat look even as he clenched his fist, prepared for the yakuza-lady to launch her midget self at him so he could _smack_ _her_ _down_.

She whirled around on her heel, extending one hand with all but two fingers bent, “Binding spell, the first! Sai!!”

His eyes widened as he could _feel_ an immovable weight bending his arms back and down tight behind him, body falling to the floor without any control.

Despite himself, even as he tumbled to the ground, “Ow!!”, Ichigo couldn’t help but think it was a _familiar_ feeling, if less like steel chains and more like _rope_ ; That _Sai_ sounded _familiar_ , like he should know _what it was_.

He glared at her from where he was slumped, “Crazy girl . . what did you do?!”

Her smirk screamed _delinquent_ – and he would know – as she chuckled snidely, “Heh heh . . it is useless to struggle! This is kidô, the demon way, a high-level spell that only a shinigami can cast! You have no hope of breaking it, so give up.” – yet he could see something in her eyes that said she didn’t think he would _give up_ as right she should think – “Despite my appearance, I have lived _ten_ of your lives! Yet you dare to call me “little snot”? I would kill an insolent fool like you, but the provisional spirit law forbids unauthorized executions. I will instead let you off with a minor case of paralysis this time. Be grateful, _little snot_!”

He side-eyed her angrily, “Freakin’ wannabe samurai . . ”

Ichigo didn’t much care for her _attitude_ , trying to roll his shoulders and test the give of his binds, because he could feel _some_ give, feeling _inclined_ to return her _attitude_ if she was just going to be a _punk_. He _knew_ how to deal with _punks_ , even dead ones. _Especially_ dead ones.

When her hand went to her waist, to the sword there, “And this . .” there was a small flash of panic in him as she drew it, “W-wait!”

Instinct had him twisting and rolling a bit to the side to evade even as she slammed the butt of her sword down – right onto the forehead of the ghost he’d just picked up.

For a second, he saw a flash of a dark-haired woman with one arm and a crazy grin not unlike his father’s, as she raised a fist above her head towards him, then it was gone.

She blinked, looking for a second between where he’d been and where he was, before focusing onto the ghost, “N . . no . . I . . don’t want to go to hell!”

She lifted her blade up, “Do not presume. What awaits you is not hell. It is the Soul Society.” – sheathing it once more – “Unlike hell, it is a restful place.”

The ghost was enveloped in a ball of light, which then rapidly condensed and out of the so-blinding-it-created-a-dark-spot light, a black swallowtail with pastel markings flew out of.

A part of him recognized _this_ butterfly as something different than the previous. And he _knew_ it was a _Positive Soul_ , returning to the next stage of the cycle.

Ichigo couldn’t help but stare, divided between being shocked and being placidly calm because this wasn’t anything really, “What- what happened? Where’s the ghost?”

Not that he needed an answer, his eyes were already tracking the butterfly until it passed through a wall.

She responded anyway, “I sent him to the Soul Society. I performed konsô, the soul funeral. You call it “passing on” in your language. It is one of the duties of a shinigami.”

She turned to more fully face him, eyeing him with a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, “To ask if you believe me or not, no longer seems necessary.” – before reaching into her shihakushō – “I will explain so that even a brat like you can understand. Be silent and listen.”

The woman flipped open the sketchpad she had pulled out, concentrating on what she was drawing with a thick marker even while holding up two fingers demonstrating, “Now in this realm, there are two types of souls.” – before flipping the sketchbook so he could see, and showing drawings even pre-school children would be ashamed of, of what could _might_ be a cartoonish rabbit head and a bear head, and pointing at one – “The first type are the “wholes”, the normal spirits. The ghosts you know are of this type.” – then the other – “Now the other type, we call hollows. Hollows attack the living and the dead indiscriminately, and devour their souls. Hollows are “evil spirits”.”

She looked at him, “Any questions?”

The words escaped his mouth before he realized it, “Hm, why do your drawings suck so bad?” – as if felt _natural_ to taunt and tease her for this lack of skill regardless of how long he’d actually known her.

Color flooded her cheeks – then her eyes narrowed, and she smirked while lifting her marker to his face.

“What the-?! You took advantage of my helplessness!”

Ichigo thought she looked _far_ too pleased with herself for having drawn a mustache on his face – and if he’d thought for even a moment that a shinigami would be dignified and above such immature things as this, it was quickly disabused.


	5. Chapter 5

The woman flicked a page in her sketchbook, “Let us continue, monsieur general.” – to another drawing of a maybe-rabbit and maybe-bear – “We shinigami have two principle duties. First, to conduct wholes to the Soul Society by means of konsô, and second, to vaporize hollows. Which is my mission now.”

Ichigo paused in how he’d been wiping the ink mustache off on the floor, with some success, “Hang on. You mean there’s a hollow around here now?”

He hadn’t gotten _comfortable_ with his invisible bindings but considering the woman had just been explaining things with bad drawings, he hadn’t seen the rush to trying to escape before when _she_ hadn’t appeared to be in any sort of rush. _Now_ , the itchy feeling at the back of his thoughts was brought to his attention again, and he pushed against his bindings, _really_ disliking the fact that he was bound, “Are you stupid?!? Don’t stand there yapping! Go vaporize it!”

She looked out with a small frown, “Actually, I have not been able to sense its presence for some time now.”

“Wha- why not? What’s the-”

Ichigo stiffened at the _Uuwoooooom_ suddenly renting the air like nails on a chalkboard.

He didn’t need to know or understand the twisting in his gut to get that the inhuman screech was _bad news_.

The woman on the other hand, didn’t seem to hear it at all – continuing to talk, “Like some force obstructing my senses . .”

Ichigo struggled some, feeling the invisible ropes loosen when faced with his will, “Hey! Shinigami!!” – trying to get free just enough to at least get to his feet, to run to his siblings to see if they were _okay_ ; if they were _scared_ – “Do you not hear that blood-curdling howl?!”

The woman looked confused for a second, “Blood-curling howl? Maybe . .” – then she looked a lot like a cat whose fur had been stroked the wrong way as she froze up at another _Gwaaooom_ tearing through the air – “A hollow!?” She twisted around, looking this way and that as this howl went on and on, trying to identify from _where_ it was coming, “What is this?! It’s like I’m hearing it through some filter, and-”

Then she narrowed her eyes at him, “But why can _you_ hear the howl before I sensed it?!”

If there hadn’t been a girlish scream of fear that he didn’t need even a heartbeat to recognize, Ichigo was sure that the woman would have pressed to know more, but _he knew that voice_ , “YUZU!!”

The woman turned on her heel, hand tight around the hilt of her blade, and he renewed his struggle against the kidô with more force, “Where are you going!?”

She paused only long enough to open the door and yell at him, “I am going to kill it!! Stay here!!”

Ichigo wasn’t sure where the growl building in his throat came from, but he didn’t fight it as much as he probably should have, “That’s _my family_ being attacked!! Undo your spell!! NOW!!”

The woman startled slightly at the sound, then narrowed her eyes and stepped back towards him aggressively, “Don’t be a fool! There is nothing you can do! You’ll only succeed in adding to the body count! Be quiet and leave this to me! Understand?!”

He narrowed his eyes at her, wanting to deny it but aware there was a truth in the statement, but if the woman thought _that_ would stop him, she had another thing coming, and he pushed _harder_ against his bindings, _determined_ to break the invisible rope.

Ichigo froze at a familiar voice, “I- . . Ichigo . . are you okay?”

He looked up to see Karin, bloodied and bleeding, crawling her way up the hallway to inside his doorway, “KARIN!!”

She just smiled in relief, very much his sister as despite her wounds her first thought was worry for her family.

“Good . . it hasn’t come this way . . it happened so fast . . Dad’s back exploded and he fell . . then it went for Yuzu and me . . so fast . . I thought . . had to warn you . . Aniki.”

Karin stopped, stilling.

“What is it . . ? I didn’t get a good look. . I don’t think Dad and Yuzu could see it. . Ichigo . . hurry . . before it finds you . . run.”

She fell silent – and he wasn’t listening to the woman, “It’s okay, she just passed out.” – concentrating, trying see if her chest still rose and fell, even as he _tried_ to get a sense of Yuzu and his dad.

He had never had a very good grasp of sensing other people, though he knew when someone was close, but was _desperate_ to get a sense on Yuzu, on his dad. But he _couldn’t_ ; he couldn’t _tell_ if they were even still alive, and that _was not okay_.

The woman startled as the faint sounds of ropes breaking echoed in the room, as he put everything he had into _getting free_ and _getting to his family_.

He ignored her, “Stop! What are you doing!? Stop! No human strength is enough to break the kidô!! If you force it, your soul will-”

He didn’t care what the consequences could be when _his_ family were in harm’s way.

The moment he felt his bindings snap, he was up and across the room at Karin’s side, kneeling long enough to evaluate for himself that her wounds were bad, but not fatal, quickly pulling off a sleeve of his jacket and tearing it into strips to bind the bleeding at her temple, shoulder, and side, at least enough to slow the worst of it, then he was racing down the stairs.

He ignored the shouted, “WAIT!!”


	6. Rukia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rukia was doing SOMETHING in this lapse of time.  
> It is very easy to imagine what a fear of hers would be when faced with a loved one of this reborn Kaien being attacked by a hollow.

Rukia moved to follow the foolish human boy – mind flipping through a thousand moments where Shiba-fukutaichou had gone forward despite advisement because he felt it was the Right Thing to Do – cursing the Shiba mentality that had them fighting no matter the odds.

She paused beside the girl, the one he’d called Karin, despite herself.

She knew the odds were very much against a human, particularly a plus that had _sight_ but didn’t have the power to back it up, being able to do _anything_ against a hollow. The fact that she was _sure_ that it was _him_ who had inevitably drawn a hollow to himself with his high reiatsu, just meant that she knew he would stall the hollow from eating any of the others.

Yet.

Yet, he may have been reborn – he may be _human_ – but his spirit was of a Shiba’s – and she _knew_ if any plus human _could_ defeat a hollow, it _would_ be him.

So, she took that extra second she normally wouldn’t have – because as long as her soul wasn’t eaten, whether the girl lived or not wasn’t important in the scheme of things with the hollow still around – and checked for herself on the girl.

If anyone asked, she would claim it was to check if the girl’s soul was still with her – not eaten or infected or taken over. Memories of how Shiba-fukutaichou’s wife had died were fresh in her mind, and she did _not_ need a repeat of that for him. Nor did _she_ need the potential risk of another hollow at her back if she didn’t check.

Rukia checked that the girl’s soul was intact, and human – and was confused by the result. Her soul _wasn’t_ hollow, but it was primarily human, with curious echoes of a shinigami’s – and something else. The shinigami she could dismiss with how both father and brother were reincarnated high-ranking shinigami, but that something else. She couldn’t quite identify it, but it was something almost familiar.

It was worth noting, to see if her captain knew anything.

Then – and she didn’t know why she should have been surprised, what with the girl’s father and brother both reincarnated Shiba, all but making her a Shiba as well, so really, it should have been expected – the girl woke up, somewhat.

Her eyes were having problems focusing completely, but they were able to focus some on _her_.

And her grip was tight on her wrist, “Help Ichigo.” – even after she passed out again.

Rukia managed to pry her hand off, realizing that while Ichigo may have been a target, his whole family was like hollow cat-nip with their reiatsu now that she forced herself to _look_ , and rushed down the stairs into a scene of destruction.


	7. Chapter 7

Ichigo spotted the broken dining table, then his father laying in a large pool of his own blood not far beyond it.

He darted across the room, kneeling next to his father as the man, looking paler than plaster, kept struggling to push himself up with one arm only to slip in his own blood, eyes defiant as he glared out towards the hole in the wall he hadn’t let himself glance at.

Ichigo looked then – hands moving automatically to push his jacket onto the worst wound and shove his father down until his body weight put pressure on it, “Stay down, Goat Face!” – and saw the monster he realized must be a hollow.

A part of him had thought when the woman had said _evil spirit_ , that it would look human, but he could see that he’d been very wrong.

He could feel himself shake slightly when confronted with this monster, remembering the last time he’d seen such a thing and what it had meant. His fearless mother had _died_ , and he’d been _helpless_.

A part of him was afraid that was all he’d be if he tried to defeat it by himself, that he’d be nothing but just in the way, and someone else would die.

Then he saw what – or rather _who_ – was in the hollow’s hand.

He left his father’s side without a second thought, grabbing up the broken leg of the table, “YUZU!!”

Ichigo charged at the hollow, eyes locked on Yuzu, who looked afraid yet still tried to put up a brave face for him, “Ichigo . . ! Run . . !”

He raised the wood when it struck almost too fast for him to see, to barely block it even as he got knocked back half a dozen meters to out onto the street.

The impact knocked all the air out of his lungs, but he didn’t let it stop him as he tossed aside the now useless piece of wood and made to stand, eyes flicking around trying to find anything else to use for a weapon.

Instinct had him diving out of the way of the next swing even as the woman came out of nowhere and cut into one arm.

He immediately dove to catch Yuzu before she hit the ground, and took a second to see most of her wounds were superficial and bruising, “Yuzu!”

The woman interrupted before he could give name to the panic bubbling in his chest at how Yuzu wasn’t responding, “Stay calm, boy! The hollow has eaten none of your family’s souls yet!”

 _Calm_ wasn’t something he thought he could achieve at the moment; “Are you saying hollows attack people to eat their souls!?”

It wasn’t even that he doubted that statement, because he remembered what she’d said earlier, but that the hollow had gone after _his_ family _specifically_ , “So why did it attack us?!”

Even if part of him knew the answer already, “Hollows are drawn to high levels of reiatsu, but they also attack opportunistically.” – knew _why_ – “I have never known a human who could see a shinigami . . or break a binding spell before . . I have never heard of a human with so much reiatsu. I believe he was looking for _you_.”

It made him remember _why_ his mother had died, “All of this . . was ‘cause of _me_?! My dad’s dying over there . . Karin . . and Yuzu bleeding . . all of this . . !”

He clenched his fists, glaring down at them with the want for his mother’s bow in his hand, so he could _act_ instead of _react_.

“Wait . . that is not what I meant!”

He looked up at the shinigami, at her fervent belief that this _wasn’t_ his fault – only to see the hollow charging them from behind her, “Shinigami!”

Instinct had her turning back to her enemy, drawing her blade to in front of her, but she wasn’t _fast_ enough.

Ichigo could only stare as she went flying to across the street, eyes narrowing at the hollow as it roared its victory, “I’ve had enough of you!!”

He stood up, “Hey Ugly! If it’s my soul you want, then fight me like a man!” – eyes flicking around as he tried to find _something_ to fight it with – “Forget the others!! It’s my soul you want – so fight _me_!”

It charged with a wide toothy grin even as he darted to the side, drawing it away from where he’d laid Yuzu down, “Come on you coward!”

He slid beneath one swing, and leapt over another, to dart inside, “Is that all you got!?” – picking up the quiver of arrows Yuzu must have been going for, dropped not far from the kitchen, then the bow Karin didn’t get a chance to grab.

Ichigo got out of the house before it tried to follow him back inside the hole it had made, before it could go after his father again, stringing the bow and pulling back an arrow, “Take this!!”

He drew back arrow after arrow, not noticing the splattering of blue light coming off his fingertips, illuminating the arrow shaft for a moment, only caring that each hit soundly as he advanced, making kill-shot after kill-shot.

The hollow screamed before it took another swipe at him, and he was too close to dodge.

Black slid in front of him, “You fool!!”

The shinigami had taken his place as the hollow closed its jaws over her.

He caught her before she could fall completely to her knees, “Shinigami!”.

Ichigo ignored for the moment how the hollow screamed in pain from how she’d stabbed into the roof of its mouth, back-pedaling rapidly, in favor of the gravely injured woman in front of him, “You . . fool . . you should have been aiming . . for the head.”

Her heartbeat was fast as he tried to use what remained of her torn shihakushō to bind up her wounds at least temporarily, “I fear . . I cannot console you . . I am too badly injured to fight . . and you lack the power to kill it. . . It is only a matter of time . . until we become its food.”

His jaw was clenched as he understood what she was saying -  they were all going to die soon, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Ichigo was trying to think of a way that would ensure his family – and this shinigami who had risked her life for his – would survive without endangering everyone else, when she continued, “Do you wish to save your family?”


	8. Rukia

Rukia could appreciate the effort Ichigo had made to stop the bleeding.

Even the way his fingertips seemed to spark slightly, seemingly unaware of how he was mumbling healing kidô under his breath just as Shiba-fukutaichou had so many years ago, with an oh-so-familiar scowl on his face that _dared_ her to try and die on him.

It made her think that perhaps a soul _didn’t_ forget everything completely.

“Just tell me how! I’ll do anything!! Tell me!”

Rukia smiled at his earnest plea, realizing it didn’t _matter_ if he was Shiba-fukutaichou reborn, he would protect the souls here in her place if given the capabilities anyway, and the theory was _possible_ , “There is a way . . ” – and drew her blade – “You must become a shinigami!”

Ichigo didn’t hesitate, eyes determined, “How?”

So, she didn’t either, “Place the point of my ghost-cutter, my zanpaku-tō, over your heart, and I will infuse it with half of my reiatsu. You will temporarily have the powers of a shinigami, to give you a chance against that hollow.” – holding out her blade so he could align the point as she said.

He was moving the blade even as he asked, “Are you sure . . ?”

Her eyes flicked behind him, where the hollow was recovering, “Yes. The chance of success is low, but your soul is so powerful. There is no time to ponder a way that does not exist. The only other option is to be eaten.”

He settled the tip just above his heart, “Shinigami.”

She smiled, softer than before, “Not ‘shinigami’. My name is Kuchiki Rukia.”

Ichigo returned it with a lopsided grin, “Kurosaki Ichigo, nice to meetchya. Let’s pray this won’t be our last meeting.”

Rukia grinned this time with teeth, “It won’t be, I promise you that.”

The hollow was charging at them, but Ichigo still asked, “Ready?”

“Yes.”

So, she put aside her own hesitance to cut his soul with her zanpaku-tō again, and did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #a soul does not forget entirely


	9. Chapter 9

Ichigo couldn’t describe the feeling the moment Rukia cut him with her blade even if given a thousand years.

(It was familiar; an echo of a memory.

It was coming home; a glimpse of a world that he’d seen in his dreams overlaying his vision, with dark silhouettes of the boy and the man standing in front of the moon on a telephone pole in Karakura as a distorted cackle rang out, “ ** _Are you ready, King?_** ”

It was older than a hundred of his lifetimes; he felt ancient and wise, the survivor of a thousand years and more, sure of himself and what he stood for.

It was newer than his last heartbeat; fresh and fragile and thinner than the gossamer on a butterfly’s wings, spider silk hung over flame.

It felt timeless, reborn each day like the sun and just as _bright_.)

He was moving before he could think, hidden in the flash of energy as nothing more than a shadow, hand grasping around the handle of a blade as tall as him and drawing it as naturally as breathing.

A flick of his wrist had the hollow’s arm severed at the shoulder.

(A part of him thought _nothing but a weakling, barely a threat for one of his rank_.)

He eyed the stunned hollow.

(There was a dark chuckle in his ear, **_just a rat beneath a horse’s hooves, barely worthy of being stomped on_**.

A man sighed softly, deep voice rumbling like thunder in his other ear, **still a danger that needs to be finished**.)

It made to move forward and he rushed to meet it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #the convergent and divergent lines of thought of an old soul awakening alongside both a zanpaku-tou spirit and an inner hollow


	10. Rukia

Rukia could only stare as her vision cleared and she _saw_ Ichigo.

(It was easy to let the dark night shade his hair darker, to look at his back and imagine a familiar armband around his left bicep.

To see _Shiba_ - _fukutaichou_ instead of _Ichigo_.)

He wore the black shihakushō of a shinigami even as she was left in whites.

Her gaze lingered on his zanpaku-tō, not just on the ridiculous size for it being sealed, but on the familiar rectangular cross tsuba with smooth rounded edges, then the pattern of the ito on the tsuka.

First glance would place it as blood-red, but that wasn’t quite the right shade. It was too vibrant, too much like a burst of fire from out in the Rukongai from a Shiba firework. It even appeared to be in the standard cross-hatch pattern for katana amongst shinigami, but the number was unusual.

To her eyes, it appeared that the ito was woven in such a way for explicitly _thirteen_ gaps.

Such thoughts though were placed aside at something she hadn’t intended, “No, I only meant to give him half . . !”

And the realization that the reason she’d had such trouble sensing the hollow – was indeed because of Ichigo, that he’d been the source of so much energy as to obscure the presence of another.

Rukia had acknowledged that she had never heard of a human who could see a shinigami; that could break a kidô.

The zanpaku-tō responded to its wielder’s reiatsu by changing shape, and she remembered what happened those first days after someone managed to channel reiatsu through the generic zanpaku-tō back in the Academy. She just had _never_ seen a zanpaku-tō so large before.

Ichigo was moving almost before she could finish processing the sheer _impossibility_ of this whole scenario, swinging his blade and cutting easily through one leg, “That’s for attacking my family, you fish-faced freak!”

She watched as he didn’t hesitate to swing again toward the now off-balance hollow.

Watched as the hollow quickly dissolved, and the soul condensed into a butterfly to fly up and off with a purpose into the sky.

Rukia didn’t know what to think about Ichigo.


	11. Kisuke Interlude

Kisuke had been enjoying his tea when something had scratched across his senses with all the subtlety of a bulldozer through a funeral.

For all of his long, _long_ lifespan, since the day he’d crawled out of the Rukongai, he’d become accustomed to a certain _control_ over a body’s reiatsu.

(It just wasn’t typical that anyone in Seireitei to not have a basic control of their reiatsu, as a matter of survival.

It wouldn’t do after all if anyone was crushed beneath the weight of another’s reiatsu.

The only exceptions to that was once a shinigami left the Seireitei to hunt down hollows.)

Excluding that _Incident,_ a century ago, after his relocation to the World of the Living, the reiatsu he came across here _should_ have been considerably less. Either a body had so little to be considered irrelevant or they had enough control to stay under the radar.

Twenty years ago, had been almost as shocking as the Incident, then _again_ , fifteen years ago, with the addition of an unusually large amount of reiatsu suddenly in his vicinity freely.

He’d adapted, as he was always wont to do in the years that followed, and he’d grown accustomed to a certain _lack_ of control with the oldest Kurosaki child’s reiatsu once he’d been born. The lack of control had him watching him actively, instead of casually keeping an eye out like he did for the boy’s sisters, who had a combination of less power and more instinctive control.

(He’d despaired briefly once it had become clear that the child had no sense of control over his reiatsu.

He’d tried once, twice, even thrice, while trespassing on Isshin and Masaki’s good will to teach the boy some control. Isshin hadn’t been able to see him, locked into his reiatsu-suppressing gigai, but Masaki had _not_ reacted well to him visiting without a by-your-leave.

He _still_ eyed any sort of archery, mundane or Quincy, warily because of her threats of _where_ she would stick an arrow if she saw him in her home again like that.

Still, Masaki had done a remarkable job though to disperse a great deal of the boy’s reiatsu when she could, and had been following that up by teaching him how to channel it through things without making him aware of what he was doing. It was the only thing he thought that had ensured that the boy had lived as long as he had.

It might have even gone on until she’d managed to find some method that _worked_ in teaching him how to suppress and control his reiatsu, if not for that day.

Isshin had caved then regarding a little _assistance_.

The boy had never questioned the odd little charm he’d gotten.)

Thus, his current surprise, nearly spitting out his tea when instead of the dull roar he’d gotten _begrudgingly_ used to – it was now a screeching klaxon.

(He bemoaned for a moment the fact that Tessai wasn’t back yet, with more of the wonderful human painkillers for headaches.

He had yet to make something more effective that didn’t also completely drown out his reiatsu-sense. It was a work in progress that had yet to yield fruit.

But he _would_ succeed at _some_ point. With it growing ever more likely that _some point_ would become the _very-near future_ with Ichigo jumped up from just-shy-of-rank to middling-rank.)

As such, he was up and out of his shop within moments, knowing exactly where to go.

And he wasn’t the least bit surprised at how the boy was passed out in front of his home, hand still tight around the hilt of his _zanpaku-t_ _ō_.

He wasn’t surprised either, at the Kuchiki girl’s state.

(She really should have been expecting as much when dealing with the anomaly that was Ichigo – nothing went as it should anywhere near his vicinity, and most certainly not with Ichigo himself. His very existence after all, was surprise after surprise, with a new surprise always popping out of the woodwork at the slightest excuse. It was best to just assume the rules of their world didn’t work around him.

If her current state didn’t tell her that, spending any time in his vicinity would ensure it.

She could be forgiven for her current surprise because she hadn’t met _Ichigo_.)

He just stopped in front of her, casually tapping Benihime against the ground to get her attention from where it was fixated on Ichigo and his _Ichigo-ness_ , and smiled, “Would you be needing some assistance, Kuchiki-chan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Kisuke Urahara #is long-suffering of the Ichigo Conundrum #and all the problems that follow
> 
> (I'm not happy with this chapter, but without completely scraping it, I think it serves its purpose.)


	12. Chapter 12

In a nebulous space that felt like the patchwork of a thousand places that meant _something_ to him – a traditional home, a courtyard with cherry blossom trees blooming, a forested area, the Karasu riverside, in front of the clinic – all blended together, Ichigo dreamed.

It felt _natural_ to be standing in a shihakushō; it felt _right_.

Then the heavy scent of iron hit him, and red bled into everything.

The blossoms weren’t pink anymore, but red, blowing in a sudden wind that had them looking like arterial spray then settling on the ground in pools.

Warmer colors of both homes brightened and deepened to red.

Shadows twisted and looked like dried blood aside from the edges which creeped along like ever growing crimson pools.

Ignoring the color for the moment, the shapes of the shadows grew into familiar shapes and following them to their bases had trees morphing into his family, jagged bark becoming jagged flesh stained with red.

There was a moment of pure horror as he looked at them, listened to them, “Ow, what’s going on, Ichigo . . ?” – “Ichigo, it hurts . .”

Karin glared at him, looking absolutely betrayed.

Yuzu was in tears, “OOOOWW!!”

Isshin looked angry and disappointed, “I thought when you became a shinigami [like I was] . . you’d save us!?”.

(For a long second, Ichigo could have sworn that his father had said _like I was_ , but it was forgotten in the heat of the moment.)

He whirled around to where a part of him was sure Rukia was at, looking to her for answers about this nightmare scenario.

She saluted him, “I am sorry! You were too late!”.

_“GOOD-!”_

A vein popped on his forehead, “Too late!?”

_“MORNING-!”_

“Then I- For nothing-!”

His eyes snapped open to the sight of his father mid-vault through the air aiming for his head with his terribly-patterned, socked feet, “ICHIGO!!!”

He was twisting out of the way, shoving off his bed with his toes before he could think, to grapple his father to the ground, pinning him with one hand grasping his face and grounding it down, “What kind of sick freak attacks his own son in his sleep?!”

(A part of him wanted to throw his father into a headlock and ground his fist in his head with _what have I told you, you goat-faced excuse for a captain about attacking sleeping people?!_ )

He could feel Isshin smiling widely beneath his hand, “Umf! Not bad, boy! I have nothing left to teach you!”

(A part of him cackled **_the crazy bastard’s been testing ya!_**

There was a weary sigh and **he has indeed been preparing you, Ichigo.**

And he wanted to know for _what_.)

But his attention wasn’t on that, “Hey, where are your wounds?”

His father blinked a couple of times, “Wounds? What wounds? Did I get hurt?”

(Some part of him heard that and thought _Isshin has gotten better at lying, but he still won’t meet people’s eyes as he does so_.)

Ichigo frowned, “Say what?”


	13. Rukia

_8:07 A.M_ _._

Rukia had held her breathe while she waited for Ichigo to drag his father out of the room, with him intent on seeing whether the night before had been a terrible dream, just waiting for him to find her hiding there.

Urahara had given her several helpful items after he and his companion had fixed the Kurosaki family up, and she’d modified the memories of Isshin and Ichigo’s younger sisters as to remove the last night’s horrors. But she’d refused his offer to stay at his shop.

(Only partially because it would be easier to make Ichigo do her duties as a shinigami if she was right there.

And partially because Urahara unsettled her. There was something in his shadowed eyes that made her think it best to put space between them. Not to trust him.)

She threw open the closet door with aplomb the moment that the four went not just downstairs, but outside, and rushed to escape the building in her gigai in a way that Ichigo wouldn’t see.

Which she did by climbing out the kitchen window and sliding along the side of the house until she was able to hop a fence into the neighbor’s yard, then casually walked out onto the street from there.


	14. Chapter 14

Ichigo stared speechless at the massive hole in the side of the combined Kurosaki clinic and home.

He’d seen it the night before, and it hadn’t been pretty, but it was something else entirely to see it in the light of day.

Isshin hummed some little ditty as he boarded up the hole with plywood, but Ichigo could still see evidence of how the hollow had attacked their home, had toyed with all of their lives; still see claw-marks along the edges and puncture holes near the top.

(A part of him watched Isshin extra carefully, taking careful note of how the older man’s fingers lingered on that evidence, but didn’t so much as stutter in his humming.)

Karin huffed and grumbled under her breathe about how she hoped the bastard came back so she could give him a piece of her mind.

(But the same part of him watching Isshin extra closely could see the spark of fear in her eyes, see how her fingers trembled as she retrieved their mother’s bow. As if even if the memory was gone, a part of her _remembered_.)

Yuzu hummed along with their father, but her fingers were intent as they tested the draw of the bow and he could have almost swore that a faint blue light sparked from her fingertips as she did.

(For a moment, he saw the same intense _fight-me_ light in her eyes as their mother had worn the day she’d died. Then she blinked, and it was gone.)

Isshin straightened, “What a miracle! A truck crashes into our house and nobody gets a scratch!”

Ichigo’s voice was deadpan as he continued to stare at it, “Double miracle, none of us woke up.”

He was having problems believing that of all the stories that were explaining away the giant hole in the wall, _this_ was the one they believed. Though considering each of the three’s separate reactions, he didn’t think they _really_ believed the story, but just couldn’t find a better explanation with the information they had.

(A part of him didn’t think Isshin had been fooled, but played along for Karin and Yuzu’s sake.)

Yuzu’s voice was bright behind him, “Breakfast is ready, Ichigo!”

He turned away from the destruction to follow her back through door, even as Karin mumbled, “Some miracle. The jerk left us the repair bills. This family, jeez.”

Ichigo looked back at them, still half-expecting to see some traces of the wounds they’d all gotten but they were _gone_ , and he wondered if this was some sort of shinigami triage service and if Rukia had left already.

(A part of him was sure she hadn’t, even if he couldn’t explain _why_ he was sure of that.)


	15. Rukia

_10:43 A.M._

Urahara had helped her a lot in getting to Karakura First High School, smoothing over a lot of questions that she didn’t have answers for nor would have known how to answer anyway.

The pitying look that the principal’s secretary gave her as she gathered her schedule, for her ‘rather eccentric guardian’, told her all she needed to know that even by the world of the living’s standards, Urahara came off as _odd_.

Still, after introducing herself at the start of the day in the manner similar to how some of Ichigo’s manga did, the day was quiet for the first two periods as she listened to topics that she knew little about. Urahara had assured her that she would have easy access to Ichigo during the school day, but with her reiatsu nearly gone, she was having problems identifying where he was at.

As such, she’d taken to glancing over at the door periodically to watch for him.

Otherwise she was studying the notes she’d taken so far, trying to make head or tails of what she’d written, and thus paid little attention to the rest of the classroom. It meant she barely raised her head at a voice following a soft _whap_.

“Alive. Sorry to disappoint you, Tatsuki, but we all survived.”

“Ichigo! G . . Good morning!”

“Huh? Right. You’re happy as usual, Inoue.”

“You’re here. Weren’t you fixing your house?”

“Yeah. What’s third period today, Mizuiro?”

“Contemporary events.”

“That’s Ochi-sensei. She won’t ask annoying questions thankfully.”

After a moment, Rukia recognized the voice, and looked over to see Ichigo had arrived without her notice, “Son of a- Are you Kurosaki?”

Ichigo turned slowly to face her, and she smiled, “Nice to meet you!”

A cold sweat broke out at his temples, and when he failed to respond, the boy Ichigo had been talking to spoke up, “Oh, Ichigo, this is Rukia Kuchiki. She started here this morning. It’s an unusual time to transfer, I know, but her family had to move.”

Ichigo raised one hand to point at her, mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a few seconds, before he blurted, “Why are you . . ?”

Rukia didn’t let her smile falter, even as she wrote on her hand before she held it out palm-side-up, “Ichigo, I don’t have any text-books yet. Do you mind sharing yours with me?”

She knew the exact second that he saw what she’d wrote, _make a scene and you’re so dead_ , because he reeled back a bit.

Her smile broadened, “K?”


	16. Chapter 16

Once lunch started, Ichigo made his excuses to Chad and Mizuiro that he needed to talk to Rukia about sharing his books until her own came in, before he dragged the midget out of the building.

(For a moment, he wasn’t speed-walking through the halls of Karakura High, but somewhere else, and much faster – but still with Rukia at his back.)

She didn’t say anything until they were outside, “How far are we going?”

(Ichigo noted how she seemed to fall into a few steps behind and to the left without thought, and how to him, it felt like old habit reasserting itself. That was how it felt like to him at least.)

She smirked at his back.

“Such a secluded place. What’s on your mind, big boy?”

He narrowed his eyes at her for that, because her tone was all sickly sweet and it sounded oh so _wrong_ for her to stay stuff like that to _him_.

“Don’t say stuff like that, it’s disgusting!”

Rukia pouted slightly, and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Disgusting? How rude. I spent the whole night learning colloquialisms! Not bad, eh?”

Considering Karin had lent him a manga recently where the female antagonist used terms like _big boy_ to taunt the hero, he really hoped that ‘learning colloquialisms’ wasn’t from the sort of manga either of his sisters favored, neither of their tastes would lend themselves to Rukia sounding anything but creepy. He felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought.

“Shut up! Explain why you’re here!”

She blinked, “Explain?”

He jabbed a finger in her direction, “That’s right! Isn’t your work here finished!? I took care of the hollow! So, why are you sneaking into my class? Why didn’t you back to the Soul Society and- _Your_ captain!”

(Ichigo wondered why it had felt more natural to say _our_ , even if he’d quickly denied himself.

He didn’t think about why he knew that she had a squad captain.)

“Shush! I’d have to be a shinigami to be able to return to the Soul Society – I _can’t_ go back.”

Ichigo looked at her blankly, almost able to grasp what she was saying but he didn’t _understand_ how one moment she could be a shinigami and the next she wasn’t, “Huh? Why not?”

There was a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher, but he didn’t need to be able to identify it to know she was putting a front, “Because . . I lost all my reiatsu.”

(A part of him sighed, **her power is not completely gone – it’s just a thin layer right now after we burned through the rest.**

Then there was a baring of teeth, **_devour the rest of it! The strong_ eat _the weak!_** )

(Another part of him was sad, mournful, _oh, Rukia . ._ )

“You lost your powers? Where did they go?” Even as the question left his lips, Ichigo felt like he already knew the answer, an unfamiliar coldness making itself known in his chest where Rukia had stabbed him.

( _Twice, now_.)

“Inside _you_. Not in your body, but your soul. You’ve . . become a shinigami.”

Ichigo noticed the strange pause, even if it didn’t make sense, but he was more focused on trying to soothe the chill settling itself behind his breastbone that strained towards Rukia. The skin around there didn’t feel any colder but the sensation of a frost didn’t fade.

It didn’t feel like ice creeping across flesh though.

It almost felt like it was stretching thinly across a mass of water that while currently shallow, a part of him instinctively knew should be an _ocean_.

(A part of him hummed, _let the sea call you home, she waits-_ )

“-night, you stole all my reiatsu from me.”

(A cackle echoed in his ears, **_it was an easy meal, no way was I passing it up! I haven’t eaten in_ ages _!_** )

Rukia continued, unaware of his lapse of attention, “I can do only a few kidô now, and I have to rely on this gigai until my reiatsu returns.”

Ichigo _recognized_ that term, but it felt like it had been a _long_ time since he’d heard it, “Gigai?”

She pointed at herself, “A temporary body we shinigami use in emergencies. Disempowered shinigami inhabit gigai until enough of their reiatsu return as to not be easy prey, or at least until they can return to Soul Society.”

He almost called bullshit, because that was not what was coming to mind for gigai to him, but considering that it _was_ his fault she was stuck in one instead of just using one to blend into the rest of the populace to not get _completely_ out of touch with the Living when it came to convincing the recently dead that they needed to pass on. For all he knew, it could even be actually true, if not what it was normally used for.

“It looks remarkably human.”

Rukia looked down at her hand, admiring the incredible detail gone into each whirl and loop of her fingerprints, “It has to. I would be easy prey for a hollow without my powers, so I have to convincingly disguise myself as one of the living.”

He noticed that she _still_ hadn’t gotten to the point of her being in _his class_ though, because she could quite easily have just hidden out somewhere until her powers had built up again instead of interacting, which would have been safer, “So, what does a powerless shinigami want with me?”

She beamed as she matter-of-factly gestured at him, “Until I regain my reiatsu, _you_ have to do the work of a shinigami!”

Ichigo blinked, just staring at her for a moment – perhaps he’d heard her wrong – but she just stared expectantly, as if waiting for him to say, _yes, I’ll do your job for you_ , “Huh?”

“What’s the problem? You have the powers of a shinigami – and I’ll help you. You have no choice, because really, this is all your fault-”

His eye twitched, and his body was moving before he could think, pulling her forward into a headlock, grinding his fist down into her fist, “Is that how you ask for a favor?! You-”

His jaw snapped shut with a click, as it felt _right_ to say _you were once so respectful, where did I go wrong_ , but he’d just met Rukia, hadn’t he? Nothing about any of their interactions had been in the slightest bit respectful, and that one moment where they had been exchanging names in case that they died had been the closest, but that didn’t count.

He hardly paid attention to her struggles, trying to pull his arm away, before he abruptly released her, stepping away and crossing his arms in front of him in a big X, “No way!”

There was a frown on her face, not understanding for a second as her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, “Excuse me?”

He started walking away, “You’re excused. I said, no way! I don’t want to face any more of those monsters.”

He listened to her take a step forward without thought as if she was going to chase after him, “Wait a second! You- yesterday?!”

Ichigo didn’t look at her as he narrowed his eyes, focusing everything he had and _almost_ able to grasp on a sense of his sisters, his father, _needing_ to know how they were doing even if they had seemed fine when he’d left them, “I fought that thing yesterday, to save my family!”

( ** _no one hurts ours!_** )

She took another step closer as he started walking off school grounds, intending to ditch class to go check on Yuzu and Karin – unable to forget the sight of both of them bloodied, pleading with him to run, wordlessly asking him to abandon them so that he would survive – so he turned just enough to look over his shoulder, not willing to humor her at the moment, “I’m not gonna fight those things for total strangers! I’m not that self-sacrificing. Sorry to disappoint you.”

He watched how she bowed her head, seeming to accept his words, “Very well.”

Only, as he went to take a step forward, he _knew_ that wasn’t the end of it. _He_ wouldn’t accept someone saying something like that _as an excuse to not act_ , and he didn’t think _she_ would either.

“You leave me no choice then!”

Ichigo was turning even before he processed the sound of her feet rushing forward, eyes catching on an unfamiliar bright red glove and a symbol on it he _almost_ recognized, before he was moving on reflex, knocking aside her outstretched arm, catching her momentum on his other arm across her chest, sinking to one knee and guiding her up and over his shoulder.

She landed with an _oomph_ even as he twisted to not let her at his back where he couldn’t see her.

(A part of him wanted to chide her, _we’re not the eleventh, we don’t randomly attack squad-mates like that for no reason-!_ )

(Another part growled, **_just eat her! She tried to usurp you!_** – and paid an undue attention to the hand she’d almost hit him with.)

She was diving forward before he could blink, as he was trying to _remember_ why the symbol on the glove looked familiar faltering for a second too long, and she grasped at his ankle, _pulling_.

Ichigo felt like someone had walked on his grave, rubbing his head from where he’d smacked it against the ground thanks to Rukia, “What the hell??”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw an arm – but that made no sense, Rukia was right in front of him and no one else had been around – so he turned his head to look.

And saw himself, eyes glassy and unseeing, chest moving if barely, pulse slow when he rushed to check, “What the hell?!”

Ichigo quickly stood, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, fighting back the impulse to _swing_ , “What did you _do_?!”

She started walking, “Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Kaien shines out some though Ichigo with Rukia #Isshin has been training Ichigo for years he wouldn’t be so easily surprised


	17. Chapter 17

_12:07 P.M._

Rukia couldn’t help but look at Ichigo from the corner of her eye, taking in how _much_ he really did look like Shiba-fukutaichou.

Even if he was just the son of Shiba-taichou, reborn or just powerless, and not a reincarnation, the similarity was uncanny. If not for his hair – which she _swore_ looked a few shades darker than what it looked like on Ichigo’s body, he just looked like Shiba-fukutaichou had put down his zanpaku-tō and lieutenant’s badge for a moment.

There was even a dent in his brows that said he was getting impatient, just standing here like this.

“Just wait. It won’t be long.”

His eye twitched, and his lips thinned for a moment, before the boy lost his temper in a way that she’d never seen Shiba-fukutaichou do, “ _What_ won’t be long!? We’ve been here twenty minutes already and you _still_ haven’t explained why you pulled my soul out of my body!”

Because she had wanted him to _ask_ , just like Shiba-fukutaichou had forced her to ask when he’d taken her out in an impromptu field trip to the World of the Living that first week, when her answer to his question of _why they did this job_ hadn’t been good enough for him. She wanted him to not _think_ about what being a shinigami meant – just _do_ because they weren’t the sort of people to stand by even if they said or thought otherwise. Shiba-fukutaichou had made her realize that, even when she’d convinced herself becoming a shinigami was all about surviving and never being weak again.

Now it was her turn to pass the lesson on.

“Do ghosts come to this park?”

Ichigo looked confused for a second, before he thought on it, “Um, just the one. A boy about five years old.” – lowering a hand to just below his waist – “About so tall. He likes to play in the park around noon.”

She looked away, back out at the park, “A friend?”

“I’ve seen him a couple of times, but I’m not usually over here around now. I try to not talk to the kids unless they’re upset because they follow me around, crying, begging to go home and back to their parents. I couldn’t do anything for them, other than taking care of their roadside shrines, and the last time I did more than that . . it ended badly.”

Rukia glanced over at him at that, because he’d said that last bit weird.

Her first instinct was to think he’d seen a child become a hollow – but he didn’t seem to understand what a hollow _was_. Her next one was that he’d run into a hollow, perhaps one with a lure like a child – but he wouldn’t be alive if he had, because even if his father wanted to, he didn’t have the _power_ , not even to see her, and she couldn’t think of who else might have been able to intercede for a younger Ichigo in such a way that left him surviving.

Urahara was never even a question – what could he gain from a human child, even one that was either the son of a powerless shinigami or a reincarnated lieutenant, with the potential to be a very powerful ally in the future? Nothing she could think of; as creepy as he was, he only liked screwing with people’s heads. Ukitake-taichou would have ended him, violently, if he’d had any _other_ interest in kids.

It wasn’t like he was looking for allies either – he was an exile, but not actively hunted. It was even a bit of an open secret among the Gotei 13 old enough to remember him, from what she understood, that he was in Karakura. Ukitake-taichou had shamelessly told her exactly where she could find him and the exiled Kidô Corps member, if she ever stumbled across something that she either needed help with or just plain _help_. There was no need for him to gather any allies unless he intended to return to Soul Society by force, and such a tactic wasn’t within the impression she had of him – he would probably wheedle his way into the good graces of someone who could talk down Yamamoto-soutaichou into not striking him down the second he left the World of the Living, if he ever wanted to.

He looked at her when she didn’t expand further, “So, why are we here?”

Rukia handed over the pager she’d been given before leaving for Karakura, letting him look at the latest message, “What is this?”

Her gaze returned to the park, “An order from the Soul Society. Twelve p.m., plus or minus fifteen minutes, within a twenty-meter radius of Yumizawa Children’s Park, a hollow will appear. It will probably attack that child’s ghost if he’s the only one here.”

Ichigo looked sharply at her and then the pager, before his head snapped up a few seconds before she sensed the hollow, just as there was a loud scream, “AAAAAAH!”

He was moving even before she could see the kid – as the boy ran from the eight-legged hollow, “WAAAH!!” – up onto the railing behind them, one hand pulling his zanpaku-tō of its sheath, and she stopped him there, “Wait!!”

The look he gave her over his shoulder was furious, dangerous, and there was almost a golden shine to his eyes, “But I thought he’s a complete stranger? Are you going to help him?”

Despite herself, a shiver went down her spine as he held her gaze for a slow blink, something predatory looking out at her.

Then he was yelling, gesturing wildly, “Are you crazy!? I can’t just stand here and watch that thing _eat_ him!”

For the moment, she put aside what she thought she’d seen, to continue driving her point home, “Before your eyes, or out of sight – they’re going to be attacked either way!”

Rukia watched as it hit him that this wasn’t a part-time job – it was all or nothing – just as the boy tripped, and he made to move without thought, “Don’t help him!”

She rushed to finish before he acted regardless, because she knew there was no way Ichigo _wouldn’t_ , “Even if you save him now, he’ll just get eaten later unless you do my job! You’d save him just because you happen to be nearby!? That’s not how it works!! A shinigami must be fair to all ghosts, only saving them when it’s convenient won’t do!  So, don’t help the child unless you can commit! If you are going to save him now, you must try to save them all! Be willing to go anywhere! Even be willing to sacrifice yourself for them!”

Her fist was clenched so tight her fingers were bloodless, as she gathered what reiatsu she still had, preparing a kidô if Ichigo didn’t move to the save the kid fast enough.

Ichigo jumped forward suddenly, pulling his zanpaku-tō free as the hollow looked at him, “What are you?”

He swung his blade so fast she didn’t see the strike as he cut one leg off the hollow off – the one poised above the kid – kicking the off-balanced body back, “Gruaaa!”

“Ichigo . . you made your decision?” The kid startled so bad he started crying when Ichigo jabbed the point of his weapon into the ground as he whirled on her, jabbing one finger at her, “Will you shut up!? I don’t buy all this self-sacrifice and commitment crap!! I helped him because I was here! So, what are you gonna do about it!!”

His eye was twitching as she tried to find words in her surprise, “What about _you_!! You sacrificed yourself last night to save me! Was _that_ just your duty as a shinigami!? Duty should be no reason to sacrifice yourself!”

The hollow barely got off the ground before, without looking at it, Ichigo with a glare towards her, twisted his zanpaku-tō around like he would a staff – or a trident – and stabbed directly into it’s face, “At least, not for me!”

He scoffed, “I’m not ready to commit to this. I can’t promise I’ll always be willing to risk my life for a stranger, but I know I owe you a large debt, and I’m not a total scum bag!”

She found herself smiling as she took his outstretched hand, “I’ll help you out.”

“All right. Good luck then.”


	18. Chapter 18

Ichigo finished the rest of the school week quietly, relatively.

Now that he was _aware_ of it, his school day had periodic interruptions where a hollow was about to attack and, he would ditch during class for a bit. The thing was, the longer he had Rukia’s reiatsu, the more that vague sense of _danger_ he’d developed over the years since his mom’s death that helped him avoid drawing a/nother hollow’s attention, evolved.

Before he’d met Rukia, he had a vague sense of where people were, even out of sight, of what or who registered _dangerous_.

Now, he knew when a hollow appeared even before Rukia did.

( ** _all small fry though, hardly worth of being a snack_** )

Sometimes he couldn’t get out of class – there was only so many times a day he could say he had to go to the bathroom before he was flat-out denied, and only so many times he was willing to ditch class outright.

Rukia always tried to shove him out of the classroom, but he’d thought on it.

The first time he hadn’t been able to go when Rukia’s pager went off, he’d felt guilty. He _knew_ that someone could be having their soul eaten that very moment.

He’d been quiet the rest of the day, caught somewhere between letting it go – because he didn’t _know_ for sure if someone had – and hanging onto it, because he’d already failed to protect his mother and he didn’t want anyone else to go through that.

A part of him _knew_ that with Karakura having so many hollow attacks, there _must_ be a shinigami assigned to take care of it. And that part of him could _almost_ get the sense that there _was_ – one, or more. He still didn’t have a good grasp about whether he was actually getting a sense of someone or if it was just in his head, let alone if the sense was of a single person.

He was getting better at being able to tell when Karin and Yuzu were close to each other, as separate entities, but it didn’t come naturally to him.

It was enough to know though that even if he didn’t take care of the hollow, there _was_ somebody else, even if it didn’t settle well with him to purposely leave it to someone else. It just wasn’t him to do so.

He could accept it though.

When he did fight a hollow, he _fought_.

Ichigo had never taken kendo, but with his zanpaku-tō in hand, his body moved in forms like he _had_. He knew what to do, how to move, even when before he’d met Rukia, he could have counted the number of times he’d held a blade on one hand with fingers left over.

It wasn’t in his nature to dwell on things like this, never had been, but it was still something he couldn’t quite dismiss.

Particularly when sometimes, a part of him felt like he was holding the wrong weapon, that his grip should be wider apart, grasping at a pole than a tsuka; sometimes, a part of him felt like he should have no weapon, fighting with tooth and claw, tearing his enemy apart with his hands and teeth, then _devouring_ the lesser being because the strong ate the weak.

Sometimes though, he just wanted to reach for his mother’s bow and shoot like he’d trained for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's exactly one comment about how long it is between Rukia's arrival and the next mess - and that says it's been a day since when Rukia wipes the Kurosakis' memories and Orihime and Tatsuki's. There's exactly two days between the two events in canon.
> 
> I expanded it out a bit to give Ichigo and Rukia a bit of time before shit starts to hit the fan.
> 
> COMING UP NEXT! The Inoue siblings!


End file.
